


White Fur

by poptod



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mystical, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 08:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21455188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptod/pseuds/poptod
Summary: Dreams aren't really real, right?Joe has a dream of you, and you insist you're real, but who is he to believe that? Till you say you'll see him next morning...
Relationships: Joe Mazzello/Reader
Kudos: 7





	White Fur

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry this is so short :(

His eyes jolted open with a start. Flickering every which way he tried to get a grasp on his surroundings, coming up empty on where in the world he could be. A forest, surely - there were massive trees the size of skyscrapers surrounding him. Sitting in a gazebo that did little to keep the drizzle off of him he looked up through the ceiling, the sky cloudy but it’s obviously daytime.

Out of the brush you came, dressed in what looked like flowing silver. What looked like old, royal garb slung gracefully over your shoulder and arms, dripping like the clouds too heavy to stay in the sky. In your hands you carried a silver tray, upon it two glasses filled with red wine. The glasses themselves were intricately cut glass, with flower imagery carved delicately. You sat down beside him on the white chair, setting the tray down on the matching table.

“Hello,” you said with a smile, your hands coming to rest in your lap as you looked at him.

“Where am I?” He asked immediately, his shoulders taut and his fists clenched.

“In the forest,” you giggled, in such a melodic way he almost let go of his fear before reminding himself he did not know you. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

He looked up to the sky again. Not really, he thought to himself, it was cloudy, and the rain pelted cold against his kin.

“Kinda cold,” he said instead, rubbing his cold hands against the jean material of his pants.

“I have a remedy for that,” you purred, pulling a white fur shawl out from behind him. He jumped as you did so, looking behind him to see if there were other things behind him, but there were none. When he looked back at you, you were already wrapping the material around his shoulders, fixing it snug around his body. You smiled when you were done, and with dainty fingers you handed the left glass of wine to him.

“What is this?” He asked, brows furrowed in distrust despite the kindness you showed him.

“It’s merlot. Drink up, Cher,” you said, pushing the glass in his hands closer to him. He looked down at the glass suspiciously, glancing up at you before sniffing it. It smelled, in essence, quite agreeable. After a moment of him still looking suspicious you spoke, saying, “it’s not poisoned, you know.”

“I didn’t think it was,” he said quickly.

“Then drink!” You laughed gayly, holding your own cup and taking a small sip, humming in appreciation. “It’s vintage, if you consider 2007 vintage. It’s a good year though, no matter what your dating is - from Washington. Not particularly known for their wine, but, it’s good nonetheless,” you explained.

“Right,” he muttered, giving the drink one more sniff before taking a sip.

True to your word it tasted rich, a little fruity, but had a wonderful aftertaste, lingering in an all too pleasant way. In the cold and rain he continued to sip away, the fur of the white coat rubbing soft against his neck as he stole glances at you. You weren’t too concerned in your own safety with him though, your gaze forward and up at the massive coniferous trees.

“Uh - this is nice and all, but what am I doing here?” He asked finally, having built up the nerve to speak over a few minutes and sips of wine.

“Terribly sorry,” you said, setting your glass down on the table as you cleared your throat. “My name is (Y/N), and I thought you deserved a break.”

“A break? You kidnapped me, I have no idea where I am!”

“Oh please, don’t get into a fit. I didn’t kidnap you. You’re still in bed,” you mumbled with a sigh, rolling your eyes and tucking your hands into the folds of your silver clothing.

“In bed? … is this a dream?”

“If you’d like to call it that, Joe,” you hummed, picking your glass up again, sipping away and giving him a wonderful side view of your face.

“… oh,” he said, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The cold didn’t seem to bother him quite as much. He took another sip from his glass, wondering absentmindedly about his own dream state.

“If this is a dream,” he said, turning to full body face you, “can I wake up, or control this place?”

“I suppose it is _your_ dream. You could do either but it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience to wake yourself up so suddenly,” you said, sighing and sniffing.

“So I could make um, for example, a bird appear on your head?” He asked excitedly, the thought of having control giving him joy that far outstretched his original anxiety.

“Uh, yes,” you said, your eyes darting from him to the forest playfully.

He closed his eyes, thinking just hard enough, and upon opening them a very fat, cartoonish bird was perched on your head.

“Couldn’t think of a real bird?” You asked, chuckling as you drank. The motion didn’t seem to disturb the cartoon bird, who snoozed happily. With a wave of your hand, it jumped off, hopping away into the woods.

“I bet I could make you naked,” he said, childish thoughts creeping into his mind.

“How mature,” you said, half ignoring the seriousness of the statement as you drank from the ever full glass.

He closed his eyes again, thinking ever so hard, and when he opened them, you were sitting in the white lace designed chair, completely devoid of clothing except a long fur scarf that covered your chest and crotch.

“Classy,” you giggled, closing your eyes and breathing deeply.

“Woah,” he breathed out, eyes raking over you.

“You know,” you said as he closed his eyes to imagine the scarf gone, “you don’t have to close your eyes for everything. Just imagining it will do. And please don’t remove my scarf, it’s cold.”

“You said yourself this is a dream, how can it be cold?”

“How were you cold earlier? How can you feel the rain against your skin if a dream is all this is?”

“Uh… good point,” he mumbled, turning back to face forward into the forest once more.

The two of you continued drinking from the refilling glasses for a while, you enjoying the fresh air and him wondering what was real and what wasn’t.

“If I die in this dream will I die in real life?”

“Probably not,” you answered.

“What about you? If you die here will you die in real life? Wait, are you even a real person?”

“I am a real person. Best hope you don’t run into me on the street,” you giggled with a mysterious glint in your eye.

“Why not?” He asked.

“Well it’s a bit awkward running into someone you made naked in a dream once but have never actually met in real life. At least I imagine it would be. I try not to declothe people in my dreams.”

“Ah. Do you, uh, want your clothes back?”

“That depends, are you still enjoying the view?” You side eyed him with a playful smirk.

“I - uh,” he stammered, losing his words as he bashfully looked away from you. You just laughed, shaking your head.

“It’s flattering,” you told him in a soothing voice. “Give someone a mask and they are true to who they are, yes? I’m glad your mask did not show someone cruel.”

He cleared his throat, muttering a ‘right,’ before taking a large gulp from his glass.

“Can I get drunk in a dream?” He asked, turning to you again.

“Would you like to?”

“Not really. With my luck I’ll probably have a hangover when I wake up.”

You laughed, eyes crinkling happily at the ends with a bright smile.

“I hope you’re enjoying your time despite your inability to get drunk,” you said as you calmed down, still smiling at him, wide and beautiful. It made his heart jump just slightly.

“Yeah, this is good. I’m actually kinda hoping I _do_ run into you in the street, if this isn’t just an elaborate world my asleep brain has made,” he chuckled, looking down at the swirling wine in his cup.

“Mm. I’m glad I delight you so, but I don’t live on the east coast.”

“Really? Wait, how do you know where I live?”

“I don’t. I just remember you live on the east coast. I live in California, Napa valley. Hence the redwoods,” you waved your hands to the skyscraper trees, “and the merlot.”

“I thought you said the merlot was from Washington.”

“Good memory! I work at a winery, it’s all very posh, but it does give me a good knowledge of wines, such as Washington merlots.”

“Ahhh,” he said in realization, tipping his glass to you. You giggled softly, nodding your head.

“So… just enjoy me while you can.”

“Just for tonight?”

You nodded.

“In that case I’ll have to come find you. Napa valley, right?”

“Yes, but I’m not there right now. I’m touring.”

“Wine companies tour?”

“This one does for some infernal reason,” you grumbled. He laughed at your antics, wondering to himself how many wine companies toured and if it was a way to find you.

For another few minutes silence continued, and the rain stopped, the cold continuing to bite just barely at his nose.

“I don’t have to close my eyes to change things in this world,” he clarified, turning his head to you.

“Correct.”

He kept his eyes open as he thought, _no scarf, no scarf_ over and over again, his eyes mostly focused on your bare stomach. To his astonishment it vanished into thin air, no special effect, simply as though it was never there in the first place.

And oh, _wow_ did he like what he saw underneath.

“Mr. Mazzello, someone’s a pervert,” you giggled coyly, saying his name in an Italian accent, looking at him over your raised shoulder.

Only then did he realize, scanning over the tresses of your body that it was a pretty perverted thing to do. Especially to someone real, who continually claimed and seemed to talk like they weren’t a figment of his imagination.

“Uh, oh, I just realized that was really weird of me -“

“I don’t mind,” you said hurriedly.

“You answered pretty fast on that,” he said, leaning towards you over the arm of his chair, raising his brow in what he hoped was a seductive way.

“I like the feel of the cold against bare skin. That, and, I want an excuse for doing this to you.”

“Doing what?”

You looked down at this chest, biting your lower lip and smiling. He looked down as well, finding himself naked down to his boxers.

“Oh,” he said, dumbfounded at your actions.

“And you can’t say a thing,” you said slyly, looking towards the trees again.

“Wow,” he said after thinking a minute. “I really can’t.”

You laughed, the minutes of silence stretching as the clouds almost seemed to part in the sky.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you said out of nowhere, your voice a murmur. Standing up you stepped over to him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“In the morning?”

You were already walking away, once more covered in a long scarf but nothing else.

“(Y/N), wait!”

He awoke with a gasp for air, sitting straight up and looking desperately around his apartment for any hint that what he dreamt up was real. As he turned his head to the window he felt the soft fur against his cheek, and with a sharp gasp he saw the shawl you’d given him. With squinted eyes and parted mouth he came to his feet, fingering at the material in wonder.

**Author's Note:**

> im really sorry for not posting much recently. I keep writing things and abandoning them and not posting them - literally, i have around six unposted, unfinished stories simply because i get too depressed to finish writing them. again, i'm really sorry.


End file.
